


Insights

by WendyCR72



Category: Law & Order: Criminal Intent
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 09:00:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12165732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendyCR72/pseuds/WendyCR72
Summary: Every successful partnership has to begin somewhere. And somewhere includes some hard secrets, some misconceptions, and oh yeah, a certain letter...





	Insights

**Author's Note:**

> _Hi, all. Back with another offering. For everything we ever knew about Goren and Eames, how did Alex find out about Bobby's mother's illness? This is my take. This takes place, obviously, in the first season. This is posted without the benefit of a beta reader, so all mistakes are mine alone. Feel free to alert me if you spy any. Enjoy!_

Eight months or so into their partnership, Alexandra Eames likened being partnered with Robert Goren as trying to lasso a tornado. With the same hopeless result. The brass knew her family background and perhaps thought she could bring order to the brilliant chaos that was her partner, but she felt increasingly powerless, tired, and overwhelmed. So much so, that she had finally taken the initiative to restore her working environment to a normal state, a productive workplace.

“What’s this?” Jimmy Deakins had asked, as she had gone in to his office while Bobby was off at the library, no doubt inhaling every written word to connect to some obscure facet of their case…

Which, if Alex were honest, was another sore point.

 _I feel more like a babysitter, less like a detective, and a stupid detective on top of it_ , Alex thought.

The inferiority she was feeling would poison her if she didn’t do something now. She didn’t necessarily have a problem with Goren. Granted, he was erratic, uninhibited, and he loved to spit on every rule the department prided itself on. But he was an astute investigator. And managed to use his cunning and mania to good effect, often trapping many a perp in his metaphorical spider web before they knew what hit them, before they realized they were outsmarted.  With that, their clearance rate soared.

But Alex just felt like a hanger on. She needed to contribute. She needed trust. And she needed a partner that respected the rules and worked within the confines of the system.

In short, she needed _normal_.

“Captain,” Alex sighed. “I’ve tried. I really have. But Goren…” Alex sat. “I…I’m just not cut out for chaos, sir.” Alex struggled to keep her eyes on Deakins, to not look away.

Jimmy Deakins sighed inwardly. He had high hopes when pairing Goren with Eames. Eames believed in regulations, rules, and order. Deakins had taken a chance in bringing Bobby Goren over from narcotics. Sure, he knew the rumors, his reputation. But many above Deakins seemed content to ignore it because of his record. The man was a powerhouse in ensuring convictions, and Deakins thought that would translate well in the elite unit that was Major Case. He had hoped that Alex would be a calming influence on her partner, smooth his rough edges.

But now he had a moment of doubt. He knew Goren liked to go his own way, do his own thing at his own pace. _The magic gut._ But Deakins also knew police work was a team effort and if Goren couldn’t, wouldn’t adapt… And he knew it wouldn’t be fair to Eames if Goren really was holding her back. Her record being just as impressive in Vice, Deakins knew Alex Eames needed her own opportunities.

“Have you spoken with Goren about this?” Deakins’ blue eyes bored into the brown eyes across from him.

A sliver of guilt crept down Alex’s spine, but she shook her head. “No.”

She bit her lip, glanced away. Regaining her courage, she glanced back at the older man. “But I doubt it would make much of a difference. He goes his own way and he seems to like it that way. He’s more of a loner and no matter what I do, he won’t try and trust me,” Alex leaned forward. “But, Captain, I’ve worked hard to get here, and I just don’t think our styles mesh. It’s nothing personal.” She nodded at the letter. “I think I’d be better suited to someone more…” _Sane._ “Conventional.”

Leaning back, Deakins steepled his fingers and gave another glance at the letter.

 _Damn,_ he silently told himself, again.

Breaking the silence, Deakins gave a short nod. “There’s some bureaucratic back log, the usual headaches and BS.” He explained. “But I’ll see if I can put this in motion by the end of the month, if that’s acceptable?”

With obvious relief, Alex’s shoulders slumped, the tension receding. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

Their business concluded, Alex exited, feeling lighter. As she returned to her desk, she sighed when she noted that Goren still hadn’t returned yet. A sudden wave of sadness engulfed her for a fraction, and Alex frowned. Why did it matter now?

_I’m doing the right thing here. I am._

The insistent ring suddenly from Bobby’s phone snapped Alex from her thoughts and doubts. She debated half a moment before deciding to answer.

“Major Case, Detective Goren’s desk, Detective Eames speaking.” Alex crisply answered.

 “Hello, Detective. Could you tell me when you expect Detective Goren to return?” a faintly-accented male asked.

“I’m not sure,” Alex responded. “But if this is a criminal matter, I can assist you.”

The voice on the other end hesitated. “No, that won’t be necessary. My name is Dr. Richard Shimo. I need to speak with Detective Goren as soon as is convenient regarding a private matter. ”

Alex quickly responded. “If you’d like to leave your number, I can pass it along?”

Dr. Shimo demurred, however. “Mr. Goren has my phone number. My schedule is fairly full, so if you could just give him a message to call me, it would be appreciated.” With that, he thanked Alex and disconnected the call.

Realizing she was still holding the receiver, Alex hung up. Circling around to her own desk, she was about to search for a scrap of paper to leave the message when Bobby fairly blew in like a tropical breeze, eyes alight from a clue he had figured out. “Eames! I think I found a connection between our two perps!” His brown eyes danced. Alex quickly learned that the library and books were sort of Bobby’s natural habitat, and he often showed renewed vigor whenever he visited there.

“So you made it out of the library alive, huh?” Alex snarked.

At Bobby’s perplexed look, Alex pointed to the clock. “You left right after lunch. It’s now 3:15 p.m.. I thought the library was some portal to hell and swallowed you whole.”

She knew Bobby was uncomfortable when he started to fidget, his cheeks turning a rosy hue. She was only joking!

And that was another reason Alex figured she was doing them a favor. Bobby was such a contradiction. A bull in a china shop on the job. Yet he was almost hypersensitive when trying to go off script, when trying to engage with him. Alex had no idea how to talk to him, and it exhausted her in trying to connect.

“S-Sorry about that,” Bobby murmured. He sat at his desk, almost a chastened little boy. Alex was ridiculously mad at herself for dimming his enthusiasm. Sighing, she broke the silence.

“No big deal, Bobby. It was just an observation.”  Alex shrugged. “Spending hours in a library would drive me crazy, so if you want to do that alone, be my guest.” Offering a tepid but sincere smile, Alex looked at some files. A part of her wondered how to broach her discussion with Deakins. For some reason, however, the words remained caught in her throat. She decided that she could always bring it up in a day or two. Ease Goren into it.

“But it’s more fun if I can read out loud to someone!” Bobby smiled. Alex blinked, a bit surprised, and shook her head, her blonde hair swinging at her shoulders. She gave a smirk.

“Only if it’s _Green Eggs and Ham_!”

For his part, Bobby was trying to figure his partner out. They had been partners for months now, and Bobby realized that he couldn’t get a read on her. Which, rather than annoyed him, intrigued him. But he didn’t want to piss her off. To scare her away. Because Bobby had come to the conclusion that he liked his partner. She was smart, observant, and gave him a sense of order and kept him from going into the emotional nether.

But, for whatever reason, he never could bring himself to tell her that. But surely she was intelligent enough to know how he appreciated her giving him a shot. He knew his reputation and, to be fair, he never got the whole ‘partner’ dynamic down. Maybe it was the deep cover cases in narcotics when he was often on his own. Or maybe he learned to be self-reliant early on, so he never felt the necessity for a partner on the job. But something about Alex Eames made him think that maybe – just maybe – he would finally get the hang of the whole partner thing.

Alex’s phone rang then. From his vantage point, he could tell it was the usual department file questions or some such and focused on his notes.

Once she hung up, Alex made a quick note about a file. Suddenly, she looked up. “That reminds me.” Alex told Bobby. “You got a phone call while you were out. A Dr. Shimo wants you to give him a call.” Alex shrugged.

Her casual message to Bobby, however, seemed to transform him. She saw his eyes, just moments ago filled with teasing, focused on his ever-present binder, suddenly filled with…was that fear? Worry?

Alex forgot her awkwardness and asked, “Bobby? What’s wrong? What is it?”

“When did he call?” Bobby asked, his voice suddenly tense, all the boyish charm drained away in a flash.

“Only five minutes ago or so. Just asked me to have you call. Are you okay?”

But Bobby got up from his desk and said, “I have to return this call. Be back later.” With that, he walked away from his desk. Alex once more felt hurt. Hurt that he wouldn’t confide even basic facts. Hurt that he still didn’t trust her enough to even get a glimpse of Robert Goren outside of a work capacity.

When Bobby returned to his desk about ten minutes later, he was pale, his lips drawn in a tight line. He spoke in monosyllables the rest of the afternoon, if at all. The glimmer of progress was again drowned out.

 

For the next three days, Bobby and Alex were apart again more than together. Alex pored over files; Bobby reviewed the notes from his binder and scattered paper and pictures all around one of the conference rooms, no doubt looking for something a mere mortal would miss.

Their case was time consuming so, in its midst, Alex found herself staying well past five that evening, still trying to piece things together. Deakins kept her updated, the back log still an issue, and promised her that he hadn’t forgotten her request. He then exited for the evening, telling her to not work too late. Alex envied Deakins going home to his wife and three girls. A family. That brought thoughts of Joe, and Alex ruthlessly quashed them.

Very few detectives were left along with the maintenance crew and Alex let out a long sigh. The quiet was slowly killing her. Ever since that call, Bobby had erected a wall 10 feet high and had firmly kept her out. Their communications, what with his flitting here, there, and everywhere, done by post-it notes and e-mail. She should be grateful for the limited contact. But it bothered her. She knew she should just say screw it and mark down ‘til the end of the month.

Her natural curiosity, however, the skill that was a major asset on the job, wouldn’t let her. Spying Bobby staring at a photo he had made to super-size on a wall, Alex decided to see if she could actually _do_ something.

Standing in the doorway, Alex noted Bobby had removed his tie, undone the first two buttons of his dress shirt, and rolled up the sleeves, exposing his forearms. He looked relaxed. But Alex knew looks were deceiving.

“Is this a game of solitaire or can anyone join in?” she asked.

Bobby jumped, her voice breaking into his thoughts. He had been staring at a photo for what seemed like hours but he couldn’t concentrate. He was off his game and he knew it. He also knew that he had to get it together. Most of all, he knew he was icing Eames out, but he had no idea what to say to her, so avoidance seemed the best course of action.

Focusing, he picked up a cup of coffee and grimaced when he realized it was cold. Placing the cup back on the table, he rubbed his neck and answered, “Knock yourself out.”

Alex entered, for the first time seeing the black circles under Bobby’s eyes. Looking at the maelstrom of papers and pictures, she once more glanced at him. “You look beat. Why don’t you go home, get some rest?”

Bobby shook his head. “I’m fine. And there’s a lot to do.” He took another photo and shoved a push pin in, avoiding Eames’ gaze.

“Bobby…” Alex began.

“I said I’m _fine_ , Eames! I don’t need another mother. The one I have is more than enough.”

Alex’s eyes flashed.

“Excuse the hell out of me for giving a shit, Goren!” She ran hands through her hair, her color rising.

“God forbid you listen to me for once. Or, hell, talk to me at all. Why don’t you just bring in a life-size cardboard cutout of yourself? It’d be more useful than I ever would, right? Well, fuck you!” Alex’s outburst shocked them both and she put her hands over her face, breathing hard, trying to regain her composure.

Bobby backed up towards the conference table. Through the glass, he spied the few other remaining detectives watching the show with interest. Alex took a shuddering breath and risked a glance at Bobby. Following his gaze, Alex saw the small crowd, prompting her to slam the door and draw the shades.

Bobby’s ire had drained out of him and he kept his eyes focused on his partner. His _angry_ partner. In his discomfort, he once again fidgeted. He suddenly looked away in shame and, as he went to grab his notes, knocked over the cold coffee.

The room was oppressively still. Bobby watching the coffee stream towards the edge of the table, making no move to stop it, as if transfixed by the small dark river of liquid. Alex kept a hawkish eye on him, still angry, yet becoming concerned again and hating herself for giving a rat's ass.

Alex jumped suddenly as Bobby grabbed his binder and threw it against the wall with a loud epithet. The binder made a loud thump, as pens and paper clips, notes, and breath mints fell out, landing in a heap on its side.

Acting as if his tantrum aged him fifty years, Bobby grabbed a chair and straddled it, resting his arms along the back. Alex came out of her fugue state and slowly crossed to him, sitting in the chair next to him. Neither noticed the coffee now puddling on the floor.

Feeling Alex’s eyes on him, curiosity mixed with confusion and still tinged with anger, Bobby spoke in a strained whisper.

“I’m sorry, Eames.”

Alex said nothing for a beat. But she gathered her courage and touched his arm. Bobby jolted, but as if in surprise and not in any attempt to have Alex back off. Slowly, he relaxed and Alex left her hand there for a beat before removing it.

Meeting his gaze, Alex licked her lips and spoke, “I just…what the hell is going on, Bobby?”

Bobby wanted to retreat again and give some acceptable, albeit false, excuse. But something told him this was important. He had to tell her – or else. He pinched his nose before once more looking at Alex. Taking a deep breath, he seemed to take great care with his words.

“Do you remember the Kevin Donovan case?”

Confused, her forehead creased, Alex nodded. “That’s one I’m not likely to forget.” Partly, Alex thought, because it was a rare time Bobby had asked her for a favor, to help him. And despite her doubts, she did. Even when it pissed off Carver. “What does that have to do with anything? It’s closed.”

“It’s not the case itself,” Bobby sighed. “Howard, you remember him?”

Alex allowed herself a smile, even as her emotions were in a jumble. “He did a mean rendition of _Beautiful Dreamer_. Deakins called it _The Goren Show_.”

Bobby managed a facsimile of a smile at that, but Alex saw he was still stuck on whatever he was trying to say. “You told me I was good with him, remember?”

Alex nodded, again.  “I remember.” Her hands rested on her knees as she watched Bobby chew on the inside of a cheek, no doubt some nervous tic.

Bobby could no longer sit still, and stood up. He felt cornered, but he had to tell someone. He just hoped he could just explain, hope that Eames wouldn’t look at him with pity or worse, like _he_ was crazy. From anyone else, he didn’t give half a shit. But for some undefined reason, Eames’ good opinion of him _mattered_.

He started pacing, seeing all the photos and notes he had tacked up covering the walls, but he barely saw any of them. “Lots of practice, remember?”

Alex gave a slow nod, watching Bobby jumping out of his own skin. He was anxious, she could tell. And he wouldn’t look at her, but he was talking. That was enough. At his reminder, the detective’s brain in her tried to use the pieces he was giving her. 

“Does that phone call fit in here, somehow?” Alex guessed. “Dr. Shimo?”

Bobby stopped pacing. He rested the palms of his hands on a wall, arms out, head down. He nodded. To the untrained eye, his head barely moved. But Alex saw it.

The room went quiet again. The hum of the lights, the ticking of a clock, and the remnants of dripping coffee eking out a rhythm. Bobby finally stood, faced Alex, and sighed. “When I was seven, my…my mother started exhibiting the signs of schizophrenia.” The words were stark, but they were out.

“She…I pay for her care. She’s at Carmel Ridge. Dr. Shimo is her doctor.”

Alex’s eyes widened. Bobby’s explanation was obviously not what she was expecting. Managing to school her features, Alex gently pressed. “How old was your mom when…when it started?”

Seeing surprise, but no pity, Bobby relaxed enough to resume his squat on his recently-vacated chair. “She was thirty-two. Before…before she got sick, she worked as a librarian.”

Alex angled her head to catch Bobby’s eye.

“Ah, so your library worship comes naturally then.” She managed a small smile.

Bobby returned it, albeit faintly. “Yeah. Before…God, it’s always ‘before’…” Alex’s heart gave a pang, but Bobby pressed on.

“Before she got sick, she would bring me to work with her during school holidays and weekends and whatever.” He smiled at the rare good memories of his mother that he had. Bobby forever cherished those days. “I’d devour those books! Pirates and astronauts and historical figures. I was enthralled.” A shadow crossed his expression.

“After the schizophrenia took hold, it became…I don’t know. A safe place. A refuge of sorts.” Bobby seemed a bit embarrassed.  “I both hated and loved the library then. Loved it for those good days, hated it because it was a reminder, and they were long gone.” Bobby sighed. “It was either the library or Father Conlon as a go-to. He…knew the score and would let me help him clean the church, give me a meal, you know.”

Alex closed her eyes for a moment. She struggled not to look as stricken as she felt. She was fortunate enough to grow up with a large, rambunctious, loving family and the contrast was almost too much. She cleared her throat and hoped her voice would come out steady.

“And your Dad? Where was he during all this?” Surely Bobby had someone around to protect him?

Bobby’s eyes glittered in barely-concealed disgust. “He was wherever Ma wasn’t. Usually at the track or bar or with whatever woman he was stuck on that month. Even when he was home, he locked himself away, for the most part. Unless he needed something. He finally quit pretending to give a shit and took off for good when I was  thirteen.” Bobby shrugged. “I had Frank. My older brother.” Bobby explained. “At least for a while.”

“For a while?” Alex repeated.

Bobby met Alex’s gaze. He could see her struggling to understand. And he so wanted to answer her questions.

_But…_

With a pleading expression, Bobby slowly responded. “Another story for another time?”

Realizing what he did share was raw enough, Alex relented. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. So she nodded. Still, her inquisitiveness wouldn’t allow her to entirely drop this just yet.

“Bobby,” Alex began, unsure how to ask without offending him, but she really wanted to know.

“With your dad…not around…and your mom…” she let that hang. “Where…where was CPS or something? I know she’s your mother, but…” Alex shrugged, a bit helplessly.

Bobby sighed. “Ma was the only constant parent I had.”

 _And how sad and ironic is that?_ Alex thought, but wisely didn’t voice.

“I…I couldn’t just leave her like Dad usually did. Someone had to be there for her. She’s…she’s my mother, Alex. “

Alex blinked at the use of her first name but remained silent.

“Frank and I, we learned how to hide things pretty well. Lived by the seat of our pants a few times, but we survived.” Bobby shrugged. “A fucked-up family was better than none at all.” He glanced at Alex and licked his lips. “I think it’s partly why I joined the military. For some stability after all the chaos.”

Alex leaned closer. “ _You_ were in the military? Mr. I-Spit-On-Rules-And-Regulations?” She gave a watery grin, which Bobby returned.

“I was.” Bobby nodded. “Army CID.”

Alex’s brows shot up at ‘CID’. She was well aware of that, having many relatives and acquaintances in the military. She gave a low whistle. “Wow. Now I _really_ feel inferior. Intelligence.”

Bobby’s brows knit in confusion. “Why would you feel inferior?”

Realizing what she said, Alex tried to brush it off, but it was Bobby’s turn to press. “Eames, why would you feel inferior?”

Alex sighed. “Bobby, you always seem to pull shit out of thin air. I constantly feel like I’m playing catch up.” She gave a self-deprecating shrug. “It’s as if you don’t even need my help.” She glanced at him, his mouth open in surprise.

“You’re wrong.” Bobby said. Alex shook her head and Bobby leaned down in his “perp pose” to meet Alex’s averted eyes. “You _are_.” Bobby took a breath. “You-You’re the natural communicator, Eames. You have the 'people skills'”. Bobby shrugged. “I just piss everybody off. You’re also the computer whiz. I’m barely adequate there.” Bobby pointed out.

“Yeah, you are a mess there.” Alex smiled. But then her face clouded. “That’s all well and good, Bobby. But what about actual detective work?” Alex shook her head. “I have to contribute, too.”

It was Bobby’s turn to touch Alex’s arm. “You do. Your approach is more street smart. Complementary skill sets, Eames.” Bobby gave a tired grin. “And which one of us was the one to pick up on that detail about our perp’s job to send me racing towards the library?”

Bobby continued, “You’re the first partner I’ve ever liked working with.”

Alex looked shocked. “You like me?”

Bobby looked at Alex as if she had two heads. “Of course. I thought you knew.” Alex shook her head, her expression thoughtful.

“Well,” Bobby gave a rueful laugh. “You know that old saying about assuming.”

They both appraised the other, bodies still, minds racing, processing. Alex finally took note of the state of the room. “The table’s a mess.” Bobby sighed as he spotted the drying coffee, the additional puddle on the floor, his binder’s contents scattered near the farthest wall.

“Oh, great.” Bobby sighed, then smiled. “I can add the maintenance crew to the list that I annoy.”

Alex stood. “I know where they keep their supplies. I’ll help you clean up…if you want me to.”

Bobby stood, too. “I…I appreciate it. Thanks, Eames.”

Alex shrugged. “Yeah, well. Thanks for trusting me enough to open up a bit about your mom.” Alex bit her lip, then decided to jump in with her next question.

“After we’re done here, do you maybe want to get a bite to eat? All of this sharing has made me hungry. How ‘bout you?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah. That sounds good.”  Bobby smiled. “Now, lead me to the Pine-Sol.”

“Follow me…partner.” Alex said. They opened the door, and the small group quickly went back to their work, happy that neither maimed the other.

 

The following morning, Alex once more knocked on Deakins’ door, while Bobby went to see Rodgers down at the morgue.

“Captain, about my letter…”

 

_THE END_


End file.
